Old Crowbait I got a little tale, boys,
That I would like to tell you
About life's little, hidden joys,
And I hope that I can sell you
Upon this new idea of mine
For ending one bad habit:
Instead of choosin' a horse next time,
You're better off ridin' a rabbit!
I got this job on the Rockin' Seven,
Ready t' spend the year,
An' I thought I'd died an' gone t' Heaven,
For though winter's drawin' near
I got a job on a well-known spread
With good grub an' heated water.
A good sound bunk t' lay my head,
And a shot at the rancher's daughter.
But it started out bad, 'cause the foreman, Buck,
Sends me t' bring in strays;
It's rainin' hard, not fit for a duck,
An' not fixin' t' stop for days.
Worst of all, the boss run low
On stock that's worth a nickel;
So Buck sets me out upon Old Crow,
And soon I'm in a pickle.
See, Crow didn't go for swimmin' neither,
And he lets me know immediately,
That if I don't let him take a breather,
We'll soon part company.
Well, it didn't take him very long
T' dump me in a mud pool;
An' I knew I'd be within the wrong
To draw an' shoot the fool,'Cause the boss' daughter's standin' there,
Her green eyes watchin' me.
She's playin' with her long, dark hair,
An' laughin' gleefully.
Now, there's one small thing that I forgot,
When I started to tell these things;
I still don't know if I should or not,
On account o' the mem'ries it brings.
But I'm into it an' I may's well go
Tell you what I had to eat:
Sour beans and sourdough,
And two pounds of rotten bear meat.
So after I got back on that horse
It didn't take too long,
To start a-thinkin' 'bout the nearest source
Of a friendly outdoor john.
But now Old Crow has made his mind
T' head for dryer land;
He wants t' leave the ranch behind,
And I hope you understand
That this old horse was made of steel,
An' his mouth was made of iron,
The stab of the bit he couldn't feel,
An' he ran on without tirin'.
Then perty soon I spied a draw,
Along the near horizon;
I stared at that gapin' hole with awe,
An' my blood pressure started risin'.
"Whoa!" I yells, "You dirty coon!"
An' I start to turn the air blue;
"If you don't stop your feet right soon,
I'll turn you into glue!"
Well, they tell me a horse don't comprehend
The words a human makes,
But as soon as he heard my sentence end,
Old Crow laid on the brakes.
An' when I say laid on the brakes,
I'm not just foolin' you;
That dirty hoss 'bout put down stakes,
An' stayin's all I could do.
Just for a second, a vision loomed,
While up there in the air,
Of a cowboy who was surely doomed
T' part with all his hair.
But I'm a real ridin' cowboy,
An' I hung with all my might;
I ain't no country plowboy--
I won't go without a fight.
I'm the best darn cowboy ever was born,
An' I hung onto the saddle,
But I came down on the saddle horn,
An' soon forgot them cattle.
Now Old Crow just stands there, spent,
Just like a little kid's horse,
Tryin' t' look all innocent,
But feelin' no remorse.
An' me, I guess my face was green,
As I tried t' ease my innards,
I'm thinkin' 'bout them sour beans,
An' about to become thinner.
Now, have you ever rode a trotting horse,
When you'd rather find a tree?
You grit your teeth a lot, of course,
As you can surely see.
An' I'd've found a tree, all right,
But I couldn't trust Old Crow
To stay tied up without a fight,
An' not off wanderin' go.
So I decided just to concentrate
And gallop him all out,
They tell me that's the smoothest gait,
But now I have my doubts.
When you gotta go, you gotta go,
An' I swerved across the ranch lawn;
Frantic, 'cause I just don't know
Where my boss has hid the john.
Well, I spotted that skinny little house,
The one with the moon in the door,
An' I leaped from Crow, that dirty louse,
Filled with hate to the core.
I'm sittin' in that little room,
Restin' my chin in my palm,
Dreamin' up that horse's doom,
For I'll kill him without any qualm.
When all of a sudden that little shack
Begins to rock and sway,
At swearin', they say I have the knack,
An' I colored the air that day.
But before I could do much more than that,
The whole place tipped right over,
I somehow managed t' lose my hat,
An' where it fell don't pass for clover.
I baled out of there just lookin' for blood,
Wonderin' what slime,
Would be mean enough to dump me in the mud
At such a private time.
Well what a surprise I saw lookin' at me,
Baring his teeth in a chuckle;
Dirty Old Crow laughed gleefully,
Looking right down at my buckle.
But there weren't no buckle there, of course;
It was down around my knees,
And so was my pistol, or I'd've killed that horse,
As quickly as you please.
Pullin' my britches up outta the water
I cocked my pistol with conviction,
Then I heard that gigglin' rancher's daughter,
Havin' some kind o' conniption.
She's bendin' over the porch's rail,
Holdin' her hands to her mouth;
An' any idea of her wearin' a veil
That moment just went south.
An' so did I, when the weather broke;
I didn't need that job anyhow.
An' as for Old Crow, I wish he'd croak;
I'd rather be ridin' a cow.
I guess if you haven't figured it out yet,
Here's the moral of this verse:
When your day goes wrong, you can dang well bet,
If it's bad, it's gonna get worse!--Kirby Jonas, April 6, 1996 (5:50)
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